


Pledge of Allegiance

by frogfarm



Series: Kill la Killverse [2]
Category: Kill la Kill (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Betrayal, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loyalty, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: When Soroi discovers the unthinkable, only one path remains.Pre-series. Soroi POV.





	Pledge of Allegiance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enhydra_lutris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enhydra_lutris/gifts).

> Of all the minor relationships in Kill la Kill, the one between Satsuki and Soroi was one of the greatest. But I couldn't help wondering: Even if he was the uncle of the president of the Sewing Club, how did this ordinary, unassuming butler come to be one of the small circle of people who were privy to the innermost workings of Satsuki's long-term plan? And then one day, it hit me.
> 
> Much like it probably did him.

The great manor hall lay nearly silent. Apart from the slight squeak of wheels, the barely audible shuffle of patent leather soles, not a sound could be heard under its vast ceiling and towering walls. Fully illuminated, drenched in sunlight, its resplendent decor was a blinding vision of opulence outlined in painful simplicity. An army could have arrayed itself inside this space. Currently, only a single soul was present to witness its glory: A lone figure traversing the length of the corridor, slightly bowed over a shining steel service cart.

Ever since his twelfth birthday, when his uncle Shirin stood for him before the board of the Butler's Association, it had been Mitsuzo Soroi's pleasure and privilege to serve the Kiryuin clan. For over sixty years he had honed his craft; humble and diligent to the last, always striving for that unattainable state of perfection, however impossible it might be. He had seen the birth of Lady Ragyo herself; followed her rise to power as both parents fell prey to tragedy cloaked in mystery. And he had experienced true awe and fear as he watched his mistress give herself over to the Life Fibers, and become unto like a god. Now entering the final stage of his own life, Soroi was but a man, yet he daily bore a thousand burdens without complaint. And when physical strength was required, he still had more to spare than anyone could have guessed from his thin and frail appearance.

He was halfway down the hall.

Eyes fixed ahead, his step remained firm and steady, his posture flawless. The sound of his passing was barely a whisper, as prescribed by his training; just enough to make those around him subconsciously aware of his presence without it becoming intrusive. Of course, Lady Ragyo was an exception to every rule. Soroi would hardly be surprised if she were aware of each and every passing molecule, from its position in the universe down to its precise chemical identity.

The archway loomed above as Soroi passed underneath, pausing only to shut the double doors behind. As he rounded the corner, however, his step faltered. The door to the inner quarters lay ajar, and drawing closer he saw no sign of light from within.

"Lady Satsuki?"

His inquiry went unanswered, and Soroi allowed himself only the briefest glance inside the room before continuing efficiently down a mental decision tree. Clearly his young charge had had a change in schedule, for whatever reason, and he had not been informed. That was merely one of the many privileges afforded those of such noble blood. He would wait but a few moments, and then return his service tray and its contents to the kitchen. There was always something there to be done while he awaited further instruction.

The minutes passed with little change. Ever watchful that any idle time be used efficiently and wisely, Soroi occupied his in scanning the room for any hint of disorder that might required tidying. To his lack of surprise, there was none to be found. Of all the wealthy and powerful he had observed in his lifetime, the future lady of the house was monumentally self-possessed for any young person, let alone one of her tender years.

Fittingly, it was precisely as he was about to take his leave when there came the faint sound of footsteps growing closer. Soroi resumed his stand to attention, his keen ears noting the presence of three individuals, more clear with each passing step. The lesser volume of the one surely indicated the lady Satsuki, accompanied by two adults. And the businesslike stride of the one, the serene calm and arrogant power of the third, left no doubt in his mind as to their respective owners.

The doors to the room swung wide. Soroi bowed lower than usual, in part to avoid the dazzling spectrum of light that emanated from underneath the pure white hair of his mistress. Beside her stood the Lady's latest and most loyal servant apart from himself, the orphan and refugee whom Ragyo had rescued from the hellish war zone of the African subcontinent.

"Have Kuroido see to it at once," Ragyo concluded.

"At once, Lady Ragyo." Rei bowed her head even as Soroi rose to gaze upon his mistress. The Lady stood tall and imperious as always, above all others in the room. Her right hand lay upon her daughter's shoulder, making the young girl appear tinier than ever in the matriarch's towering shadow.

"I have conducted a purification ritual." Ragyo's statement seemed to contain some secret amusement. "I leave her in your capable hands."

Soroi bowed deeply. The light turned away, shrinking to nothing with the sound of the enormous doors sealing shut.

When he straightened, Lady Satsuki had not moved. She stood in front of the closed doors, eyebrows slightly knitted in her typical concerned and thoughtful expression. At her side one hand lay atop the hilt of the katana, dangling from its scabbard. It might appear ludicrous for a child to wield a blade longer than she herself was tall, but Soroi had witnessed firsthand the deadly effect of her brutal and constant training.

"Welcome back, my Lady." Soroi inclined his head in respect. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Yes." The flicker of a moment passed before she replied. And another short pause, before she said again: "Yes. That would be nice."

His hands were already busy measuring out loose leaves, verifying the water's temperature. Such a simple ritual, compared to the elaborate ceremony of his own country. He still enjoyed both of them; the process, and the end result alike. Though it had to be said the Anglo method certainly left more time in one's life for other pursuits.

Lady Satsuki seemed to emerge from a trance, looking down at her sword as though it were wholly alien in form and meaning. Then she raised her head and walked to the table, placing her katana upon it before clambering up into the sole chair to sit with her hands upon its arms.

"Your tea, milady." Not a trace of humor colored Soroi's response. Nonetheless, it was difficult to remain completely unamused. His young mistress insisted on as many things as possible in her life being sized for the woman she would eventually grow to become. On occasion, the results were comical. But he would commit seppuku before he allowed it to show. Possibly non-metaphorically.

"My thanks, Soroi." Lady Satsuki bowed her head, shutting her eyes and inhaling the steam that issued forth from the cup. The gilt bone china had been her own choice when Soroi offered a selection, and it remained her favorite to this day.

"Milady." Soroi turned away, his hands moving of their own accord as they gathered and tidied the various accoutrement. And yet, had anyone been watching, there was the faintest suggestion of a frown in his own eyes. The almost imperceptible tremor in her shoulders; a seeming lack of emotion, beyond her usual mien of self-assurance. And despite this, there was something else. Not the barely contained confusion, the helpless grief she had recently shown when her father had died. This was just as subtle, and far more intense.

It took him a moment to recognize it as anger.

"Mm." Not a hint of this shone through in her quiet, satisfied hum. Her eyes opened and found his. Only his newfound knowledge allowed him to see the glint of fire at her core.

"Excellent as always." She took another sip, then hesitated. Soroi was in the obvious process of making ready to leave, and he could see the conflict on her face. If anything, that alone was a sign of her distress.

"I see Miss Rei is doing well." Soroi knelt to fuss at the left rear wheel of the cart, which was growing loose enough to start wobbling soon. Best to nip these problems in the bud.

"Yes." Was that another momentary hesitation?

"Certainly better than when she first came here." Tact and discretion kept him from mentioning the fact that Rei still slept with a knife under her pillow. Nonetheless, it was indeed an improvement.

"I read reports of the civil wars in the region." Again Satsuki bowed her head, breathing in the soothing vapor. "I can imagine anything being an improvement over such atrocities."

"Indeed." Soroi contemplated the loose wheel with a frown. 

"If I had been in her place..." Satsuki gave a small but mirthless chuckle. "I might not have survived long enough to be rescued."

"Milady is too modest." Soroi gave the wheel another test wiggle. There was no avoiding it; the thing would have to be replaced as soon as he returned to the kitchen.

Satsuki took another sip of her tea, and did not reply. Soroi stood and dusted off his hands, weighing carefully his next words.

"People learn to live with horrible things."

In that split second, their eyes met.

It was like a stroke of lightning. Staggering in its enormity, in its foulness; all the worse for its vaguery, in that his insight remained incomplete. And if God was merciful, that was a kindness. For now Mitsuzo Soroi knew, with a horrifying certainty that dwarfed even a shred of doubt, that Lady Ragyo had violated this girl -- her own flesh and blood -- in body, and in spirit. Not a hint of emotion crossed his face as his gorge rose, sheer outrage fueling his enflamed imagination until it felt as though the blood would explode from his every pore and orifice in a crimson shower.

Soroi realized he was leaning on the tea cart, clenching the rail with all his might. He swallowed and shut his eyes, focusing on regular breaths. It was precious little consolation that Rei appeared to know nothing of the abuse that was taking place right in front of her eyes. Possibly blind to it because of that very fact, somehow convincing herself of its rightness. Obviously Lady Ragyo considered her own behavior right, and good...

Through the roaring haze, Soroi could feel the blood draining away that had a moment before suffused his head to bursting. His fingers refused to abandon the rail of the cart as from the corner of one eye, he could see Satsuki rise from her chair. Or rather, scoot herself from it and land on the marble floor with a determined _clunk_ before straightening to her full child's height.

_No,_ he thought dimly as she strode toward him. _Don't look at me._

"Soroi." Her young voice was more gentle than he could ever remember. "You are not to blame."

He could not bring himself to open his mouth. But when he dared raise his head, the iron in her gaze lent fresh vigor to his shame.

"It is not the first time."

Soroi very nearly groaned aloud. He could not pull away as Satsuki reached out and took his trembling hand between her own.

"When she came to tell me Father was gone." She held fast to him, all the pain lacking in her words plainly emanating from her eyes. "She said that I must forget. That I must be...cleansed, of his influence."

"Young Miss." For a moment Soroi mastered his emotions, regained equilibrium. "I cannot tell you how sorry I was to hear of the loss of your father. He was always -- most kind to me..."

His heart gave a spasm. For one horrible, awful moment, Soroi was sure he was dying.

Then he was on his knees, the ringing in his ears matched only by the pain in his skull. He rose up only to fall again, striking his forehead to the marble floor with still greater force. Blood ran freely into his eyes, blinding his sight, and he would have repeated his mad gesture unto death if Satsuki had not bodily intervened by placing herself in his path.

"You old fool." But her words were tender indeed.

He bowed his head, remaining where he knelt. Her hand was once more on his shoulder, the two of them now equal in height.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

"There is nothing to forgive." She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Still the storm in her eyes continued unabated, as she offered him a silken handkerchief from her pocket. "But there is a choice that must be made."

Soroi accepted the handkerchief and held it to his forehead, returning her gaze with utter lack of comprehension. There was nothing to be done. No action of his could possibly atone --

"You cannot serve two masters."

Dumbly, he stared back at her.

"Renounce your loyalty to Ragyo."

He blinked as he wiped away the blood. Satsuki stood unmoving, a monument to the resolute.

"And swear allegiance only to me."

With heartfelt determination and devotion, Mitsuzo Soroi rose to the task before him.

_"I swear."_


End file.
